Ocean Blue
by Aaydona
Summary: Miri stares out at him, the shadows of her face shifting into horror, fear until she ducks out of the tent and he can see her no longer. An EvinxMiri oneshot.


**Title:** Ocean Blue  
**Characters:** Evin, Miri  
**Rating:** PG-13 to be safe.  
**Word Count:** 704

Miri stares out at him, the shadows of her face shifting into horror, fear until she ducks out of the tent and he can see her no longer. He rises from a nest of woolen blankets in too much of a hurry and the shocking cold of wet sand bites his bare feet. The woman who isn't Miri tugs at his clenched fists desirously and looks at him. Her eyes are startlingly green, like a pair of thin paper lanterns illuminated, even from behind a mass of soft dark hair. He should stay, he thinks to himself. Stay for what he can take instead of leaving for what he cannot.

But he did not, for all he sees in her face, almost beautiful like porcelain, is an expression that Miri would never wear. It isn't her. _Not her_, the waves sing, from outside the tent, as they crash gently into shore. _Not her_, _not her_. He finds that his fingers are too stiff to work the laces when he struggles into his shirt. His shirt is white, as starkly white and harsh as Miri's face beneath the shadows.

"I'm—SORRY!" he shouts into the sea, at the dark figure slipping into the blue.

She stops as he dashes into the ocean in pursuit and shudders at the crush of icy seawater and something entirely separate. "What's there to be sorry for?" Her voice is quiet and calm, like the waves that will not yield.

"Look, it's just because I—Ugh, she's not anyone I—It's just that—Damn, I'm an idiot," he stumbles through his syllables.

With too much venom, she replies, "Damn straight." Remembering cursing is for people with a lack of good vocabulary, she pauses for a reconsideration of her words. "I agree. You _are_ an idiot of the first class."

"Hey, I only said I'm an idiot, not of the first class." They sigh at the same time, wistfully and painfully, but both give no acknowledgement of noticing it. "It's not fair. You said we shouldn't be a couple, you initiated it by kissing that bastard _Farant_." How he despises Farant, with that sleazy attitude and penchant for walking around shirtless, at that moment. He sloshes in the water to lessen the distance between them, not caring that the sensation of water spilling into his unlaced shirt feels like the caress of a blade.

A faint scowl at the mention of Farant unfurls on her pale face then vanishes as she gives him a wince. "Then you were with what's-her-name. On _my_ bunk because the two of you were too lazy to climb up to her bunk. I had to clean my sheets."

"You retaliated by kissing that bastard _Farant_ on my bunk," he says shortly, calming.

She looks away from him, as if afraid of what his intense gaze, sometimes light and sometimes impossibly dark like the ocean she loves, might do to her. "Fair is fair," she says, trying to reassure herself. "Life should be fair. War should be fair…" Then, hesitantly, she adds, "Love should be fair."

"But it's not." He reaches out with uncertain fingers, across the ocean that separates them. He thinks that he will be able to touch her if he just stretches a little further and if she reaches out too. He wants to. The words are in his throat like a song that wants to escape from his pursed lips, but he wonders if words can tell her how he feels, the tangle of guilt and love and ache that he is right now. He launches into explanation, using words that fell out him like precious lifeblood. He tells her he loves her. He loves her so much he would rather be at war with her than not see her at all.

And at the end, he feels like a child again, exposed and vulnerable like he is pure of all deception and hate.

"Well," she says, almost shyly, after seeing that he is finished. Softly, like a waking dream, her fingers brush his. Knowing Miri, he realizes that is as forward as she will go.

_For now_, anyways, he thinks with a smile that baffles her. He lifts her face to his.

**Author's Note:** My first Tamora Pierce and present tense drabble. Beware of my grammar of DOOM. It was written for the prompt "All's fair in love and war. Supposedly, anyway" in a Tamora Pierce drabble community. Hugs and cookies for feedback.


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